


The Vow

by lun27



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28670925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lun27/pseuds/lun27
Summary: Hermione didn't think her life could get any worse, but the Malfoys are experts at proving her wrong at every turn. So she plays along with their game of tug of war while Voldemort rises to power and threatens their very life. Dramione Marriage Law AU.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Comments: 48
Kudos: 90





	1. I Take Thee

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT INFO:  
> This is an AU with events diverging from the end of fourth year. What would change if Fudge never ignored the resurrection of Lord Voldemort? The story starts about a year and a half after the trio finished their NEWTs.
> 
> There are no Horcruxes in this story simply because I'm not a fan of MacGuffins and the story is complicated enough without them :) The Deathly Hallows are just a myth as well.
> 
> Prepare for dark-ish romance and unhealthy relationships.

Hermione felt his hand pressing into her lower back, heat radiating along her spine. His chest was nearly touching hers, her hand cradled in a perfect manner as he turned her around on the dancefloor, guiding her to follow him. The proximity was disconcerting, the warmth radiating from his body even more so. He should be cold like marble to compliment his blank face, his personality, their relationship.

She manufactured her face into a brilliant smile that she directed up at him as he dragged her along into yet another dance, not letting her go after just one sonata. It was an act of miming the perfect pair, dancing a perfect dance in perfect robes to represent their seemingly perfect life.

He acknowledged the smile she sent him with a small nod, accepting it as Hermione fulfilling her part of this charade.

Draco looked good in his formal robes, Hermione thought absentmindedly as they twirled past Ron and Pansy — the former looking completely out of place while Pansy was leading their dance. Ron just looked like he was enduring the greatest suffering mankind could imagine.

Arching a brow at her, Draco held her waist a little tighter to move her attention back to their little dance. It was a relief that he was handsome at least. She could have had worse. She could have been stuck with a bigot and an eyesore. No, her darling husband was perfect for this game of shadows and smoke.

He finally took a step back from her after the music had swelled up one last time, bending his upper body in an implied bow and then led her off the dance floor. Not towards her friends who were awkwardly huddling by the buffet, but into the direction of where his parents were standing.

Oh joy, Hermione thought.

She would be released into the care of Narcissa Malfoy who would babysit her so Hermione wouldn't bring shame to the Malfoy name. As if she ever had done anything to embarrass them publicly. That was aside from the fact that she was a Mudblood and had said 'yes', leading to the unpleasant situation of wearing a wedding band around her ring finger, its pale, grey stone marking her as a Malfoy to everyone who knew to interpret pureblood marriage symbols. It wasn't even her fault that she was born a Mudblood or had to marry into a family that neither accepted her nor that she felt like calling 'family' in the first place. But yet, somehow, the Malfoys seemed to hold onto the notion that she had orchestrated all this or was at least in some other way at fault and therefore needed to be watched over lest she brought any more miss fortune onto their otherwise flawless family.

She worked up another of her smiles that she was nowadays forced to keep in stock for these occasions like a package of wet wipes — single-use only, lest they turned bitter. This one was directed at her mother-in-law who looked pleased.

"Darling, your dress looks stunning, I didn't think you could pull it off, but look at how it brings out the best in you." Her eyes swept from Hermione's less than average decollete down to her too wide hips concealed under an excess of silvery fabric framing her quite nicely.

Lucius didn't address her at all, didn't even look at her. He hadn't so much as glimpsed at her since she had dared to marry his son. Not even a thinly veiled insult, of which he had an endless supply for anyone he considered inferior, had been directed at her. After all, it was hard to put a member of the family on the same level as Arthur Weasley.

Hermione sometimes doubted that Lucius remembered her first name. She equally doubted that Narcissa cared to remember, judging the pet names she decided to call Hermione instead. Maybe it was their method of avoiding to acknowledge her as a member of their family, and instead treating her more like a dog that was a little smelly and not quite house trained, but not enough trouble to get rid of it.

"Thank you, Narcissa, Draco helped me pick it," Hermione answered, not sparing with fake politeness and ignoring her backhanded insult to her inadequateness that apparently could only be hidden by the most expensive dresses.

Draco shrugged beside her. Actually, he had forced her to put it on, threatening to make all her clothes disappear and leave her to dress in pillowcases like the house-elves. It hadn't been a pretty conversation, although they hadn't shouted at each other. They never shouted.

"Draco, I want to introduce you to someone," Lucius drawled, and Draco finally moved his hand from the small of her back where it had already burned through the silky fabric of her outrageously expensive dress to leave a permanent imprint on her skin. The men left, moving on to more important things than family drama and chit-chat.

Narcissa, meanwhile, dragged her along into dead-boring conversations with the older pureblood witches about nail polish that never peeled and Madame Parkinson's new hairdo which was a bit last-season although she insisted that it was the latest fashion in France where she had spent the summer with her side of the family.

Hermione stood next to Pansy, who ignored her pointedly while shooting glares at Ronald who had found a companion in Neville, both getting tipsy on punch.

The Malfoy's New Year ball was going swimmingly.

At one point, Hermione managed to escape the clutches of Narcissa and found Harry hidden in the shadows of the grand staircase.

"Hi," she breathed and kissed him on the cheek. "Looking fancy."

He grinned sheepishly. "I hate the bow-tie, but Daph insisted."

"I get Yule Ball-flashbacks seeing you like this."

They shared a laugh.

"Great times," Harry commented. "Have you seen Sirius by the way?"

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "It doesn't matter that he was declared innocent, people will keep shunning him," she reminded him. "Also I don't see Narcissa reconnecting with her rehabilitated cousin at New Year's eve and getting over age-old grudges just like that."

"You could've invited him at least. It's not fair that he'll always be an outcast," Harry grumbled.

"You know I don't have a say in the guest lists. Or anywhere for all that matters. I'm sure he would have hated it here." She tried lightening his mood with champagne, but he remained rather taciturn after that.

It was close to midnight when Narcissa rang a little bell to get everyone's attention and the enchanted instruments stopped their slow waltz.

"Thank you for gathering here in our humble home for this year's conclusion, my wonderful guests. Let us greet the new year together with hope and look back at our accomplishments of bringing the wizarding society closer together with pride." She nodded towards a young couple which had been among the misfortune souls forced into marriage after graduating from Hogwarts. "Let us look forward to a bright future!"

A few "hear, hear"s sounded from the back where some older gentlemen stood by the not-so-small fountain from which enchanted water bubbled up in the shape of kelpies. "Now, we shall all gather outside so we don't miss the fireworks." Narcissa made a sweeping gesture towards the patio where waiters stood ready with champagne and warming spells to keep the guests comfortable.

Hermione felt it was time she made a trip to the bathroom to save herself from the depressing countdown for yet another year spent with the Malfoys. Excusing herself from Harry, she made it only halfway out of the ballroom when Draco appeared at her side and foiled her plans.

"Behave," was all he said before putting a hand around her waist and steering her towards where the rest of the crowd was heading. She hated that he touched her like this, that he touched her at all.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she said.

"No, you don't."

"I'll pee myself," she threatened in a whisper, and he had the audacity to look amused.

He nudged her through the wide-open terrace doors and fetched a glass for her that she accepted begrudgingly. Making a scene was nothing either of them desired.

People ooh-ed and ahh-ed when a large clock face appeared above their heads, a handle ticking towards midnight. She squinted and realised that the shimmering apparition was a choreography of dozens of pixies fluttering in formation to form the clock. It was impressive, training them to do this performance. Hermione half-wondered if they had been individually Imperioused. She wouldn't put it past Narcissa.

She caught sight of Neville being dragged further to the front by Tracy Davies, or rather Tracey Longbottom, when she felt Draco moving closer, standing against her back now and she briefly closed her eyes, wishing she could step away, but knowing that she would only bump into the people around them who crowded together.

Dread settled in her stomach, as she noticed Lucius and Narcissa holding hands. Actually touching each other! She noticed that others had found their partner as well, and Hermione knew, she just knew, that what was coming once the pixie-clock above their heads signalled midnight wasn't going to be something she enjoyed.

And so, condensation-wet glass in hand, she felt herself growing hot as the minutes ticked by. The murmur around her ceased before everyone started chanting the last seconds to midnight.

When they reached the count of one, a colourful explosion lit the sky. The fireworks scared the poor pixies shitless and they dispersed in all directions.

Hermione didn't have much time to marvel at the sight though as Draco turned her around to him and, ignoring her panicked look, cupped her cheek with his free hand, the thumb sneakily capturing her chin so she couldn't turn away as he pressed his lips to hers.

She stood still as a statue, paralyzed by the foreign sensation of Draco-sodding-Malfoy kissing her. He gave an impatient sigh and stepped on the tip of her shoe. She gave a small gasp of surprise from the flashing pain of having her toes crushed. Seizing the opportunity to make their kiss look like a real one to whoever might be watching, Draco let his hand slip along her neck and drew her closer.

Her whole body was tingling, like when she was on a broom, knowing that she could plummet to her death at any moment. Her fingers were digging into the fabric at the front of his elegant robes, and as his tongue boldly brushed along hers, she wasn't sure if she was still pushing him away or just holding on so she wouldn't falter. The faint taste of whiskey invaded her senses.

He pulled back, his fingers still tangled in the low bun at the nape of her neck that was now probably messier than Narcissa liked.

"Happy New Year," he murmured and clinked their glasses while Hermione still stared at him like an idiot. He tipped his head back and took a generous sip and then one more. His arm was still around her shoulders, holding her to his chest, but he didn't look at her anymore, gazing instead above the heads of the people around them as if watching the fireworks lighting the night sky. From up close it was clear that his gaze was glassy and Hermione realised that he was drunker than he let on.

Slowly, it registered what had just happened. Hermione felt a deep shame settle low in her stomach and suddenly she felt ill. She lowered her head, pretending to take a sip from the champagne and then kept her face hidden against his chest as if leaning into him as she was trying her best to collect herself.

She would not cry. She couldn't.

Breathing deeply, she finally found some balance, reminding herself that she would only need to endure an hour or so more of this and could then go back to hiding in her bedroom like she had done all of Christmas. Straightening, she turned, stepping out of Draco's embrace under the pretence of watching the fireworks. She caught sight of Narcissa who was watching them and the shame flooded back into her cheeks that heated up like a cauldron on dragon fire. Narcissa had just watched her snog her son whom she had dared to marry as if ignoring the fact that even a thousand New Year's kisses wouldn't bring luck to their relationship.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Draco nodding at his mother and Narcissa returned the gesture. That was all Hermione needed to know that this whole charade was once again something orchestrated by her mother-in-law to make sure their family was a shining example of perfection. Anger bubbled up beneath the shame and she desperately wanted to leave.

How dare they? They didn't treat her any differently than the poor pixies, trained like a Zouwu in a wizarding circus.

Hermione gritted her teeth and put on a brave front. No use overreacting now when she could channel her fury in more effective ways later.

* * *

Hermione managed to slip away shortly after the fireworks. She sighed with relief as she closed her bedroom door behind herself, shutting out all that she despised and that made her uncomfortable. She had to admit, she liked her room in Malfoy Manor although it was just across the hall from Draco's. The house was majestic and spacious but held a charm in the flourishes in the moulding and the lavishness of the portrait frames hanging in the long halls (although the portraits inside — all Malfoy family members — had constant disgust wrinkling their noses as if they smelled dung whenever Hermione walked past them).

She released her hair, massaging her skull where the braids at the side of her head had left her with a headache. "Beauty means suffering," Narcissa had said on the day of her wedding as she had charmed the corset around Hermione's waist to tighten further. Hermione had wished for nothing more than her mother or a friend by her side, even Lavender would have been welcome at that moment. But she had gotten Narcissa and her disapproving glares and a wedding gown like a straightjacket.

Hermione twisted her upper body to see the zipper of her dress in the mirror of her ivory-adorned closet. She tried to aim her wand at it to free herself from the wretched thing. This time, she would make sure to donate it so Draco wouldn't burn it like the one before. Another evening gown made to show her off like a dressed up barbie doll. When she had proclaimed that she could wear the beautiful blue dress again, Draco had wasted no time throwing it into the fireplace to make sure she couldn't.

Hermione cursed when she missed her aim and the zipper got stuck in the fabric that was bunched along the waist to flare out in a soft A-line.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Hermione jumped with a small squeal, pressing the front of the dress to her chest although she hadn't even managed to open it wide enough to fall.

"My dear wife running from the party and hiding in her bedroom," Draco commented as he spotted her. He waltzed into her room and dropped onto her bed heavily. His speech was a little bit slurred, just enough to be noticeable, but more than that, his dishevelled hair was an obvious sign of his drunken state. It wasn't Harry-Potter-disheveled, more like Bill-Weasley-nervously-running-his-hands-through-his-hair-as-he-flirted-with-her-at-the-Quidditch-world-cup-four-years-ago-disheveled.

"Excuse me?" she said, hoping that it was clear from her tone that he could get the fuck out of said room.

He ignored her and instead took a sip from a bottle of champagne. Skipping the fancy crystal glasses, now are we? she thought.

"Need help with that?" He waved at her, indicating her dress and just the idea of him helping her undress made a hysteric laugh bubble at the back of her throat that she had to swallow back down. One unhinged person was enough at the moment.

"You are drunk," she said, realising with a twinge of annoyance that that wasn't going to be enough to remove Draco from her room or even her bed. "What do you want?"

He looked at her as if gazing at a wide landscape, a pretty painting. "I made mother quite happy today, a perfect kiss for a perfect Malfoy marriage, although I conclude that I did the opposite with you."

Burning anger corroded her throat as she struggled to keep it under control. "What do you care?"

"It's tiresome fighting with you."

"We are not fighting."

He didn't object but remained seated on her bed. She wondered if he was too drunk to get up on his own. Tentatively, she took a step closer. "Do you need anything else?" she asked.

"Let me help you with that dress."

"I can help myself."

He pulled a face and she had a dreadful suspicion.

"What did you do?"

"Might have charmed it to stay on so you couldn't change it into anything else last minute and offend mother after she spent an entire afternoon shopping for it," he mumbled, looking for a moment like Ronald admitting to having forgotten his potions homework and asking to copy from her. Honestly, all boys were the same.

Hermione found herself in the unfortunate position of wanting to tear the dress to shreds just to make a point while definitely not wanting to be naked in front of Draco and also not wanting to waste a perfectly fine dress to a temper tantrum.

Deciding to be the adult one in the situation, she turned her back to him, making sure to keep an eye on Draco in the mirror. "Go ahead then, open it. I want to go to bed already."

He got up surprisingly swiftly, having more control over his body than any man that drunk should have.

"I'm sorry about the kiss," he said, his speech slurring more now. He drew his wand and for a moment she was worried he would mess up and hurt her, but then she felt the zipper give as he pulled it down. His fingers followed the path of the opener down her spine and the hairs of her neck rose as she felt his knuckles brush against her bare skin.

"You're drunk," she said again, as if that was an excuse for his uncharacteristic openness with her. Holding onto her dress so it didn't slide down, she turned back to him.

"Not as drunk as I should be if you ask me." He gave her a lopsided smile and Hermione felt slightly off-balance, unsure what to do with a drunken Draco standing far too close to her. He had never smiled at her like that before. She desperately wanted to tell him to stop, that they didn't smile at each other without the clear purpose of parading their seemingly functioning relationship, but she felt pathetic.

"Go to sleep, Draco," she said instead and summoned her pyjamas — the ones Narcissa hadn't managed to take from her like all her Muggle jeans — before disappearing into the adjacent bathroom.

* * *

After a quick shower and undoing the glamours she had cast on her face to meet Narcissa's standards, Hermione returned to her room, not bothering to switch on the light as she made her way to where she knew the large bed was. She loved that bed but was too proud to admit it. It was perfect for reading in it all Sunday afternoon.

She crawled under the covers, only to be met with an obstacle. An undignified little squeak escaped her and in her scare, she managed to summon a bit of wandless magic. "Lumos."

The pulsing light floating from her fingers revealed her darling husband sprawled on her bed like the king himself.

"What are you doing, get the fuck out of my bed, Draco," she hissed.

He grumbled and turned over enough to make room for her, but didn't leave the bed or even open his eyes. He was still wearing his robes, just the shoes lay discarded at the foot of her bed.

She pursed her lips in annoyance. Pushing his shoulder, the only part of him that she was brave enough to touch, she tried to shove him off, but he didn't budge much. Bracing her hands on the mattress, she pulled her feet up against his back, pissed to no end and pushed with all her might. "Get. The fuck. Out of. My bed."

He grunted and turned around faster than she could move back. One of his hands caught her ankle and he pulled her down so she plopped onto the soft mattress. Before Hermione could push up again, he loomed above her, holding her down by the shoulders. "Listen, Granger," he said, his voice just a little clearer than before.

It's Malfoy now, she wanted to correct him but pressed her lips shut.

"Blaise decided to hijack my bedroom to fuck his Ministry-approved wife and make little Ministry-approved babies and I want some sleep so I was generous enough to free you from that dress instead of waiting for you to come crawling to me to help you. Show some gratitude and let your husband sleep in your damn bed."

He was drunk. Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes. Then she tried to wriggle free, but he held her in place.

"Don't touch me," she breathed, all vigour knocked out of her as a creeping terror overcame her. Draco was strong, much stronger than her physically, and her wand was in the bathroom, far out of reach. He could do anything to her if he wanted. She usually trusted his dislike of her enough to leave her alone in private, but he was drunk now and she was rather certain he bordered on insanity at the moment.

To her surprise, he let go and turned his back to her. "I'll stay on my side of the bed," he grumbled and then he was asleep.

He didn't stay on his side of the bed.


	2. To Be Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little glimpse at my plans for this fic:
> 
> There will be about eleven chapters in total and an estimated 40k words if everything works out. I know some readers don't even touch stories that are below 30k or even those below 50k :'D Rest assured, there will be some plot to cover.
> 
> \-------  
> Previously:
> 
> Draco steals a kiss on New Year's Eve and then proceeds to pass out in Hermione's bed.
> 
> He turned his back to her. "I'll stay on my side of the bed," he grumbled and then he was asleep.

Hermione woke up with a warm body pressed to her back.

She tore open her eyes, blinking a few times to fight off the sleep. The sun was just beginning to rise, the sky crystalline and indicating the freshness of a new year. She felt small in his arms, curled up like a kitten with a heavy hand sneaking around her waist.

Mortification flooded her sleepy mind when she realised where she was and who was cuddling her like a giant plushie.

She wriggled free and slipped down to the floor on her side of the bed, her body still sleep-heavy, crouching there and trembling from the sudden cold brushing against her skin.

Peeking over the edge of the bed, she stared at his face.

He opened his eyes, blinked once, twice. The third time, his eyes stayed open, hooded and unfocused. A low rumbling sounded in the back of his throat. "What are you doing, Granger?"

She flinched, realising what she was doing and stood up, crossing her arms as she looked down at him. "I don't appreciate you barreling into my room late at night and abusing me as your teddy bear."

He turned onto his back, throwing an arm across his face to shield his eyes from the light. Then her words seemed to sink in and he sat up abruptly. "Fuck."

She scrunched up her nose. "I can assure you we did not."

He grumbled some insults that she didn't much care for as he stumbled out of her bed. "Just for the record, I find you revolting and annoying and overall an eyesore that had better stayed in her own world. Whatever hex you put on me to knock me out —"

"Oh, sod off, Draco."

He glared at her and did exactly that, shutting her door with a little more force than necessary. Not enough to consider it door banging, they didn't do that, but enough to emphasise that he wasn't too happy about falling asleep in her bed.

* * *

"Don't buy more books than you can read," Draco commented when he found her at the back of Flourish and Blotts. It was a busy Saturday out in the streets, but the corner Hermione had chosen was peaceful and void of other shoppers.

She looked up at him from the comfortable armchair she had settled into with a pile of books to her right and three more lying in her lap. "Then don't buy me more clothes than I can wear."

Once a week, Draco made a point of taking her out. He had paraded her around at Diagon Alley a bit, buying ridiculously expensive stuff for her, mostly the things she protested most against, and then leaving her to her own devices to run his errands.

It wasn't that either of them enjoyed spending time together and showing off their perfect marriage to everyone. But when Hermione had first moved into Malfoy Manor, she hadn't left her room for weeks, doing nothing but reading books all day and occasionally crying her heart out over the unfairness of the whole world.

People had started to worry when she hadn't been seen at any events, hadn't talked to her friends, hadn't answered letters. Harry had voiced suspicions that the Malfoys kept her locked up or had even killed her.

Sufficient to say, the situation had escalated when Tonks had defied Moody's orders and had taken her Auror squat to the manor in order to free Hermione or at least recover her body.

Lucius had been livid and Narcissa had looked like she had bitten into a lemon for over a week after that unpleasant event.

Since then, they had made sure to assure the public of Hermione's wellbeing at regular intervals.

"I'll buy you as much stuff as is necessary. You'll donate half of it anyways." With a bored expression, he picked up one of the books from her lap and turned it over to look at the title.

"Why buy things that you know I'll never use? It's a waste of money."

"You see, if we just stop buying things because they are not a necessity, the economy would slowly but surely go to waste. We need to move money to keep the whole place running."

He was such an entitled brat, believing himself to be the sole driver of the wizarding economy. Although Hermione sometimes wasn't sure if the Malfoys were just that, judging by the number of Galleons they spent on every possible occasion.

"Why not invest in something more worthwhile then?" she asked. "There are more important things to spend money on than dresses and trinkets."

He smiled thinly. "Oh, but I do love seeing my dear wife aggravated over all those pretty, useless things I shower her with."

Of course, he enjoyed driving her crazy. She stood up, snatching the book from his hand and collecting her pile, struggling to gather all of them in her arms until she set them down and levitated them instead. Draco didn't even bend a finger to assist her.

"I'm done here. We can go," she declared with the books floating ahead to the counter.

He held up three fingers. "You can have three of those. Choose wisely."

She glowered. "What about the whole 'we run the economy' talk?"

"Ah, but we shouldn't buy useless things with our money, there are more important books than _Goblin Silver Welding Methods Used In The 13th Century_. Who writes about this? It's ridiculous."

"Fine, I can always buy them myself." Hermione didn't want to spend her own money, especially since her vault was running empty.

When Dumbledore had offered her to move her parents to a safe location, there hadn't been much left after their resettlement. Only a small sum that her parents had transferred to her Gringotts account for her to buy school supplies was left. Hermione didn't mind, knowing they could spend all their money on rebuilding a new life far far away and be happy without ever knowing about the daughter they had left behind.

"Let me just go to Gringotts and get some money from my vault," she said casually.

"You will do no such thing," Draco said irritated and waved his wand to take over the books, paying for all of them.

She smiled over that small victory. If she needed to manipulate him, she could always rely on his embarrassment should she do something that was considered improper for a pureblood wife. She suspected that he could only deal with so much embarrassment at once and her being his wife was already more than he could take on most days.

* * *

Halfway into January, Draco announced over their weekly Sunday family brunch (the tradition that Hermione had tried fighting tooth and nail until giving in when Draco had threatened to order the house-elves to rearrange it to her bedroom) that they would attend a pureblood poker tournament that evening which the younger generation was holding at Blaise's mansion.

Narcissa regarded her son from across the table. "Don't be stingy with the donations. We must not indulge in frivolities without giving back to society as well."

"Of course, mother," he replied smoothly, but his eyes were on Hermione who had chosen to remain silent. She preferred arguing with Draco to arguing with his mother. So she waited until Narcissa rose from the table, officially releasing them from their duty to eat with the family. No one addressed the fact that Lucius hadn't even sat down with them, picking up a croissant and leaving for whatever important business he had to attend instead.

Unlike Draco, the elder Malfoy seemed to never stop working. Draco had a strict weekend rule, sticking to leisure activities and dragging Hermione to one event after the other. Once she had pointed out that he was networking and therefore still doing work-related things on the weekend, and asked why he didn't do something nice instead. He had looked at her as if she had told him to swallow a furball.

Malfoys had a problem with the concept of having fun just for the purpose of it.

She finished her tea and got up from the table, Draco following her upstairs to their rooms.

"I don't want to go," she said over her shoulder, not bothering to look at him.

He caught up with her. "I don't care, you will."

"I hate gambling." She stopped at her door and turned to look at him. "I'm sure you can go on your own."

"It's charity, you'll love it."

She scoffed. "It's rich people playing some games and pretending it's not illegal gambling by ceding some of their wins to whatever cause they would have supported anyway with the plan of getting a tax break later on."

He smiled a thin smile. "You know us stuck up pureblood elitists well, sweetheart. Make sure to get dressed in time. The red one," he added, referring to the suggestive dress he had bought her as a Christmas gift that showed too much cleavage and had a long slit going up to the top of her thighs. "I'll pick you up at six."

Then he disappeared into his rooms and left her behind, looking after him with a sour expression.

She charmed the dress to show little to no leg, but there wasn't much she could do about the decollete. Sewing spells were tricky.

Later that night, Hermione found herself at a table with Draco's Slytherin friends. She had tried to sneak off to play at Neville's table, but Draco had pointed out that the seats were preallocated and hadn't accepted any of her attempts to switch hers.

Hermione wanted to talk to Ron so badly; they hadn't had a chance in ages and she needed to know where they stood, if there still was a chance for them somehow. It all seemed so impossible at the moment, but maybe one day this nightmare would be over and she'd be free and he would too and then they could have what she had always imagined waited for them in the future. But he was seated next to his wife at Neville's table.

Somehow, Hermione had ended up the only woman at her own table, facing most of Draco's friends.

Despite her reservations, she found the game entertaining, and she had no problem losing the money Draco had generously traded for chips and handed to her. He made up for any of her losses anyway; he was an excellent player.

She found a strange enjoyment in watching him, witnessing the minuscule shift of tension belying the smugness he felt when he had won another round.

"Hermione," Nott said with a voice so oily that she wanted to sanitise her hands. "You know our dear Draco best, don't you? I bet you a hundred Galleons that you don't know his tell." At this point, Nott was down to a handful of chips and seemed a little desperate to stay in the game.

She raised an eyebrow. "What would I want with your money if I have access to the Malfoy vault at Gringotts?" She didn't really — Draco decided what she could spend money on and what not — but she knew how to manipulate him enough to get her way every then and now.

Nott nodded. "True that. How about a generous donation to a charitable purpose of your choice?"

"How generous?"

"Don't bait him, darling. You don't want to be on the losing end of his gambles," Draco said as he handed out the cards for the next round.

She sent him an amused smile, letting him know just how much he was underestimating her. Did he think she'd play games that she couldn't win?

Uncertainty wavered at the corners of his mouth and then she felt his hand on her knee, a warning to not cross him.

She pushed her knees together, crushing his fingers between them. He immediately pulled back his hand with a small wince.

"What do I have to do if I lose?" Hermione asked and Nott looked positively gleeful like a cat that had spotted an unsuspecting mouse.

"Hmm…" he pretended to think, tapping his chin with his index. "How about you entertain us a little? A striptease should do. One item of clothing for every round you lose from now on."

"She will not," Draco growled.

"Ahh, Draco you always prance around your pretty wife, let us enjoy her too for once."

"Deal," Hermione said and both men turned to her.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her over the cards in his hands but remained quiet.

"For eight thousand Galleons for the Lupin Werewolf Shelter." Now that was a worthy cause. She knew Remus was in need of further funding to supply his clients with wolfsbane and a secured place to stay every full moon.

"Eight thousand — you are insane!" Nott exclaimed.

She scoffed. "Everybody knows you can offset it against tax."

Making up his mind, he nodded. "Alright, let's shake on it!" He extended his hand.

Looking at Draco, she took it, enjoying the irritation in her husband's eyes. He was prepared for her embarrassing both of them, but she didn't plan to make a fool of herself today.

"So," Nott picked up his hand, "what is his tell then?"

Hermione casually sorted her hand. "Usually, he leans back and pretends to be bored, but now he will probably try to do the opposite which he will find doesn't work in his favour." Then she laid her first card.

Draco lost ten thousand Galleons that night and they left early without Hermione even showing a daring flash of leg.

As he helped her into the Thestral-pulled carriage, which they had taken instead of apparating that night, his hand was maybe squeezing her fingers a little too tightly and his face was a little too tense.

Hermione didn't think much of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:
> 
> "Who is it?" she asked.
> 
> Draco smiled thinly. "Do you really want to know that, darling?"
> 
> Disgust contoured her mouth. "I swear, if you are the one who knocked up Pansy, I'll cut off your balls and feed them to you."
> 
> \-----------
> 
> How do you like my version of Theo? :) I just had a discussion with a fellow writer about how incredibly flexible his character is. He's always so much fun to write and I still manage to find a new side of him every then and now. My goal here was to make him as slimy and disgusting as possible haha.
> 
> Special thanks to x Hemlock x for answering a dozen questions and helping me with my plotting :3 Without you, I would be a little lost in my plot I think haha
> 
> Beta: Nora Fares (I honestly don't know how you always find the patience to look through my work with all the projects you have on your own)


	3. To Have and to Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like it's time for another chapter as I've been managing to write some the last few days :)
> 
> I'll try not to question my recent phase of productivity :D  
> \----------
> 
> Previously:
> 
> Hermione embarrassed Draco in front of his friends at a Poker game.

* * *

Blaise was maybe the only Slytherin Hermione could tolerate. Part of the reason for that was that he was incredibly sweet towards Luna, fulfilling her every wish with devotion as if they were a real couple.

It was no surprise that Luna's birthday was a personal affair with just their closest friends and no unnecessary or unwanted guests who had to be invited to not spite anyone by excluding them.

The modern lake house near Belfast had large windows, which offered a marvellous view of the frozen lake. The living room, where they had put up a buffet and drinks, was decorated with dozens of sunflowers even though they were hard to come by at this time of the year.

Luna twirled through her groups of friends and family like a little fairy dressed in buttery yellow colours that reminded Hermione of the beautiful Belle from her favourite movie as a child.

It was the first time in a long while that all her friends were gathered again, and Hermione felt her heart warming and her cheeks glowing. She was happy enough to shed a few tears as she hugged Luna and wished her all the best for her birthday.

"I miss you, Hermione," Luna said. "At Hogwarts, we used to see each other every day, and now there is hardly any time I get to talk to my friends."

Hermione nodded solemnly. "I know what you mean."

Luna's face broke into one of her brilliant smiles. "All the better to have the people that are dear to me gathered today. Thank you for coming."

"Of course, Luna. Wouldn't miss this for the biggest library in the world."

Luna hugged her again, and Hermione knew it wasn't an exaggeration. Books were comforting, but they could only tell stories. They couldn't listen, and the comfort they offered was just a brief escape from the real world. Luna always seemed to know what was going on inside her.

Hermione nudged Draco who stood awkwardly beside her, craning his neck to look for Blaise or any of the people he would much rather hang out with than Hermione's friends.

"Happy birthday," he said and handed Luna the present Hermione had bought on their last trip to Diagon Alley.

Luna unwrapped the small box, opened the lid and marvelled at the tiny, handmade glass beads Hermione had bought. They shimmered in vibrant colours, each a different shape, glistening like the rainbow of the refracted winter sun shining through the big windows.

"Oh, these are perfect, Hermione. Like little Fairy Tears."

"I saw them and thought of you." Hermione smiled. She knew Luna liked to design her own jewellery.

Luna encouraged them to drink from the dragon fruit punch she had made herself and continued to greet more of her guests.

Hermione tried locating Ron, but he was nowhere in sight yet.

Mr Lovegood glided over to them, a limp carnation in the buttonhole of his collar. Hermione looked for a way out of the looming conversation but didn't want to leave Draco alone with the man either. On the one hand, no one deserved to deal with Xenophilius Lovegood on their own, and on the other, she didn't trust Draco to not be rude. He had been rather grumpy for the last few days.

"How is the marriage life, Draco? I realise that after a year, the excitement boils down a little," Mr Lovegood asked in his husky tone.

Luna's dad was a difficult person. Hermione couldn't outright dislike him because Luna loved him dearly, but he was naive and curious in an unsettling manner that no adult should be. And he was just a little bit pretentious in a way that left a bitter aftertaste to all their interactions. She wanted to whack him over the head for suggesting that she and Draco had ever had something like a honeymoon phase.

"Oh, quite the opposite." Draco looked at Hermione and something cold and heavy settled in her stomach.

"She can't get enough of me. I didn't expect it either, but if it were up to her, we'd be trying for babies already. Hermione is a darling. I wouldn't want for more," he added and sent her a smile too sweet to be honest, too smooth to not be malicious. It was like watching a house of cards collapsing, the first card slipping away slowly and yet too fast to intervene while the others followed tumbling.

Someone to their right took a harsh breath and Hermione's head turned automatically like it was pulled with strings to catch sight of Ron who stood just two steps away, his attention on Draco and something between fury and embarrassment on his face. Then his eyes fell on her and his expression soured like old milk, disgust written on his features.

She opened her mouth, ready to say something to assure him that it wasn't what it sounded like, that there was no truth in Draco's words. But Ron turned and swiftly walked away before a tone left her lips.

Hermione felt violently ill.

Her hands fluttered over her skirts as she smoothed them down despite everything being perfectly in place.

Her fingers trembled.

She looked back to Draco who had a smug amusement glinting in his eyes. Her stomach rolled and she quickly shut her mouth, turning away so he wouldn't see her squeezing her eyes shut.

Xenophilius said something else, but his voice sounded like it was coming from behind a waterfall.

The light was suddenly painfully bright. Hermione had to blink a few times as she made her way towards the garden to catch some air. She felt like her dress was getting tighter and tighter around her midriff. Stepped outside, she greedily sucked in the icy air.

Focusing on the first snowdrops joyfully pushing through the frosty snow, she tried to centre herself, but the flowers were awash, a sheen of tears clouding her eyes.

Hermione took one more step to hold onto the bannister of the terrace, closing her eyes to gather her wits. She felt faint.

"Oh my, dramatic much, sweetheart," Draco gloated behind her.

Blood rushed through her ears like a stream right before a waterfall. She counted to three, breathing deeply. When her head stopped spinning, she straightened up, pushing her hair back in place and blinking away the tears.

She didn't look at him, couldn't, couldn't look at him.

They were even again.

* * *

Draco left her alone when she ignored him for a good minute or two. He knew when he had kicked her enough. He knew her far too well, knew how to drive the nail in deep under her skin to make a small itch suddenly flare up and hurt like stepping on broken glass.

He knew how to make her feel like nothing would ever be right again, like she'd just sink deeper the harder she kicked and kicked and kicked.

When her fingertips grew numb from the cold, Harry appeared beside her with a cloak.

"Ron's a git. Just ignore him," he said as he draped it over her shoulders and muttered a warming spell for good measure.

Hermione pulled the cloak tighter around herself. "He should know better, shouldn't he?"

"Yes, but he is how he is. He'll come around."

Hermione nodded to her shoes. "I just don't know if I can do this anymore," she said quietly. "I don't know if I can keep doing this."

Harry's forehead crinkled into a sad frown as she looked up to him.

"I think I need a hug," she said. A hug wouldn't help her, a hug couldn't fix things, couldn't give her and Ron the time to confess their love and be happy together. She doubted even a Time-Turner could manage that, but at least Harry would feel like he could do something for her.

As expected, relief smoothed his frown and he embraced her like only a friend could, warm and salvaging. It somewhat eased the sense of forlornness coiling in her chest.

* * *

Three weeks later, Pansy was announced to be pregnant and Draco presented Hermione with an invitation to the baby shower. Hermione's heart ached, realising that Ron hadn't mentioned anything in his letters even before the incident at Luna's birthday party. Instead, she now heard of it in the least personal manner she could imagine.

Since Ronald had married into the Parkinson family, he no longer had to wear used robes or turn over every Knut twice before spending it.

He seemed quite comfortable in his new lifestyle, free to buy what he desired and to do whatever Galleons could pay for as long as he made sure to appease Pansy and keep her entertained. It had been a hard time for him in the beginning. He had even asked Hermione for advice on how to get his nagging wife off his back. She had been the one to show him how to look for pretty jewellery, how to pick the right flowers and sometimes pralines, but never too many at once so Pansy didn't accuse him of making her fat.

Now, looking at Ron goofily smiling next to Pansy, Hermione felt like she had been the one to enable that. She felt a heaviness settle into her chest, a strange yearning for something that she could no longer have.

It was hard to tell where they had gone wrong. Maybe, they had never been right for each other. They had always been arguing, but there had been moments when he had been so sweet.

She remembered how he had let her sneak into his bed at night whenever she hadn't been able to sleep.

Ron gave an undignified grunt when she pushed her cold feet between his calves and snuggled closer.

"Shh, Harry will hear," she whispered, a giggle tickling the back of her throat.

He pulled her closer to his chest, and she relaxed into the embrace.

Pressing a kiss to his collarbone, Hermione closed her eyes and let herself drift into sleep, confident that the comfort of his scent of laundry and fresh bread would chase away her nightmares.

Grimmauld Place had become her home since fifth year. While they waited for Harry to be freed from his Aunt and Uncle, Ron and her had found quiet delight in the hidden corners and nooks of the old house. Looking back, it was impossible to tell what had been their first time holding hands under the kitchen table or their first kiss stolen under the staircase.

Once Harry joined them halfway into the summer holidays, it was a little harder to remain unnoticed, but Hermione didn't mind the extra thrill it added to their relationship.

Ron was adorably insecure. He was constantly worried Fred and Geroge might find out about their secret relationship and tease him about it.

Hermione had been waiting for him to grow into it and get comfortable with the idea of them being more than friends. She had felt mature back then and had told herself that this would be good, really good if she just gave it the time it needed to grow into something beautiful and strong.

Just how she couldn't pinpoint where and when their fling had started, it was impossible to tell when it had ended.

Maybe Grimmauld Place had held a strange magic that had lured her into his bed night after night. Once she had left to become the bride of their nemesis, it had broken something between them.

Hermione could blame Draco for driving Ron away from her for good with his nasty words, but that would necessitate revenge and she wasn't sure she could take another of his retaliations without breaking irreversibly.

Ron might have loved her back in school, but at some point, it hadn't been enough to overlook the flaws in their current situation and keep up their friendship. Maybe they had just needed a clear cut like this to move on. Ron at least seemed to be able to.

Hermione looked at her shoes, trying hard not to look like an ugly duckling crying for someone to love it.

She wondered where Draco had wandered off to — he had been gone for some time now, and she was worried he was up to something, scheming to hurt her yet again.

She sipped on her drink, watching Ginny next to Adrian Bulstrode, Millicent's younger brother. Hermione felt pity for the youngest Weasley who sent yearning glances at Harry. Harry in turn was completely clueless, occupied with evading Daphne's fretting hands taming his dishevelled hair.

One of Pansy's many French cousins tried to chat with her, but Hermione wasn't able to hold a proper conversation, too distracted with her inner turmoil and Pansy's hand splayed on her abdomen, rubbing small circles from time to time. Distantly, Hermione realised that Pansy must have used glamours to hide her now clearly visible baby bump and again, she felt bitter disappointment that Ron must have kept this a secret from her for some time.

Draco slipped back to her side, returning from his bathroom break, just in time to keep her from going over to Ronald to talk to him. They hadn't talked much after she had married Draco. Ron couldn't stand looking at her beside her husband, and she was rarely able to meet anyone without him these days. But since Draco had said those awful things about her, Ron hadn't even looked at her.

She looked up at Draco, her eyes catching onto his neck. The edge of his collar was crinkled just a tiny bit. It was out of character, interfering with the perfect facade they were presenting, so she reached up and smoothed it out. He flinched away a minuscule amount, an annoyed twitch that was nearly invisible, but she felt the tips of her fingers brush along his skin.

That was when she saw it.

Displeasure coiled in her stomach. Hermione straightened up, turning away from the others, knowing that her face was strained, her lips pinched and that she was unable to relax her features into a pleasant expression. "Can I talk to you for a second?" she asked quietly, her words meant for Draco's ears only.

He arched a pale eyebrow at her, noting her narrowed eyes that wouldn't quite meet his and reluctantly nodded.

Hermione forced a smile left in the vague direction of the bathrooms.

She found a small room down the hall that was empty except for a few boxes and shelves — a storage room. Nobody would disturb them here. She left the door open a tiny bit so Draco would find her while she cast privacy spells.

He took five whole minutes before slipping into the storage room and shutting the door behind him. Every minute that passed with Hermione waiting and pacing three steps in one direction and then three back, she schooled her features and found her calm returning. She didn't need anger in this forced relationship, anger made her irrational, anger made her care.

"What's gotten your knickers in a twist, wifey?" he asked, his expression saying that he felt that any conversation with her was a total waste of his time.

She marched up to him and pulled his collar down, revealing what had caught her eye and sent her blood boiling just a few minutes ago. "How dare you?" she said when he struggled to remove her fingers clenched into the fabric of his shirt. A shamefully red mark was prominent on the juncture of his neck.

She let go of him, pushing him away for good measure to let him know exactly what she thought of him snogging some bint in the bathroom and letting her leave a hickey for anyone to see.

"Who is it?" she asked.

Draco smiled thinly. "Do you really want to know that, darling?"

Disgust contoured her mouth. "I swear, if you are the one who knocked up Pansy, I'll cut off your balls and feed them to you."

He barked a dry laugh, mocking her with the thrill shining in his eyes as if daring her to go through with it. "Such ugly words form your pretty mouth. Where's the broomstick you usually have shoved up your arse?"

She pulled her wand on him then, stepping very close to push the tip into the soft skin under his chin. "Don't test me, Draco."

He swallowed — the only gesture that belied his nervousness as he gazed down his nose at her. "Why do you care anyway?"

She huffed, lowering her wand. "I care for Ron, and he is smitten with that wife of his."

"So I can fuck whoever I want as long as it isn't Pansy?" He grinned like a Cheshire cat, enjoying to bait her.

"Absolutely not." The thought was appalling. "I will not be pitied as the poor housewife that lets her husband cheat on her."

"Well, bugger for you, because I will not be a celibate for the rest of my life," he growled and stepped into her. "Either you'll have to live with me having one or two flings every now and then, or you'll have to do your duty and —"

"Stop right there." Hermione had to push against his chest to get some space between them, and she now regretted choosing the small storage room for this conversation. "You are disgusting," she said and left him standing there, returning to the party with a face that belied nothing of what had just happened. Although it was hard losing the embarrassed blush staining her cheeks.

She didn't know how it had come to this, and her head was spinning with the new turn of events.

Draco had never insinuated anything in that direction. He had barely touched her since he had slipped that dreaded ring on her finger, not counting the few social events where they had to keep up the pretence. And then there had been that kiss on New Year's Eve. That messed-up, forced kiss that had somehow changed everything. At least that was the only explanation she had. Why did he suddenly care to be around her more than was strictly required? Why had he come to her room, drunk and tired and slept in her bed? Why did he leer at her as if he wanted to undress her with his eyes?

Maybe it was just a new form of torture to feed his constant desire to antagonise her, to torment her and make her feel as uncomfortable as possible. It was his way of punishing her for the situation they were in as if it was her fault.

"Harry, how are you?" she asked her friend to distract herself. He looked tired despite the effort he or rather Daphne had put into taming his hair and making him look presentable.

He shrugged. "Nightmares."

She frowned. "Again?" A year ago, she would have told him to go to Dumbledore and ask for advice, but now… "What are they about? What do you see?"

"He's scheming and gathering followers, same as always. Although…" Harry trailed off and looked down his half-empty glass of gin and tonic with a contemplative expression on his face.

"Although what?"

"I think he's looking for something. I keep seeing these halls and rooms and there's this feeling that I'm searching for something. I don't know how to explain it."

"Wait, you have the feeling that you are searching for something?"

He looked at her like a lost puppy then. "It's messed up, isn't it? Sometimes I think I'm him, Hermione. Am I going crazy?"

"No, Harry. You are still you," she assured him, but deep in her belly worry spread its wings like a caged dragon waiting to break free. "Listen, I want you to keep a dream diary, write down everything you remember. It might help you to get it out of your head. Are you still taking Occlumency lessons with Snape?"

Harry nodded, looking pained. "I hate it."

"It's important, Harry."

"Don't you think I know that? I don't want him in my head!"

She held up a hand to remind him to keep his voice down.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Let's not talk about this now?"

Hermione nodded.

"How are you? Is Malfoy treating you decently?"

She rolled her eyes, not willing to put her recent vexations into words.

Harry looked worried. "He's not… you know, violent or anything?"

"Heavens, no. You think I would let him push me around?" She tried to sound offended, but they both thought about Lavender and Crabbe.

It had been ugly with the two of them. In the end, they had been separated, Lavender with a shiner, Crabbe with several nasty hexes to the chest that had glued him to the hospital bed for a week and a half. Lavender had walked out of that marriage with her head held high and proud. A week later, when a notification had informed her that she would be remarried to Marcus Flint, she had handed in her wand at the Ministry and hadn't been seen since.

Hermione had never been more impressed with her old dorm mate. And she had never been more glad that Draco hadn't ever laid a finger on her. His form of warfare was cruel but reduced to words sharp enough to cut steel.

Speaking of the devil, Draco showed up at her side, sneering at Harry and taking her elbow. "Time to go home, darling. I have other places to be."

Hermione was too tired to fight him, knowing that once Draco had set his mind on leaving, he'd make sure that every additional minute they spent here was as unpleasant for her as possible. He was just like that, tormenting others into doing what he wanted without outright forcing them. A Slytherin to the core.

She hated it because it was not enough reason to pay him back later. There was no room for small pettiness in their relationship. That would just affirm that he got to her, and she was too proud to admit that.

Every once in a while, they drew the borders anew to remind the other of where the lines were, what artillery they had up their sleeves, but otherwise, they followed the careful dance of stepping around those unpleasant moments that took more and more out of Hermione.

"See you, Harry," she said instead with a small wave, and he nodded, accepting that that was just the way she dealt with her husband.

"It's rude to leave early," she commented as Draco held the door for her.

"I'm bored, and I don't care for Weasley salivating over Pansy."

She didn't either, but Hermione didn't want to agree with him so she kept her mouth shut as he Apparated them back to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:
> 
> "Listen, I have some connections in the underground," Sirius said. "If you can just …"
> 
> "Leave her alone, Sirius." Harry stepped up beside her. "Hermione has to deal with enough bullshit and doesn't need you to drag her into your kamikaze missions."  
> \---------
> 
> As some of you probably noticed, the canon timeline shifted a bit in my story. There are some changes that occurred right after fourth year that now affect everything thereafter.
> 
> Can someone guess which events are to follow? :D I'm leaning heavily onto canon events, so maybe some of you saw parallels and can do a bit of sleuthing hehe
> 
> Big thanks to my betas Nora Fares and x Hemlock x!

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little teaser for the next Chapter:
> 
> "There are more important things to spend money on than dresses and trinkets."  
> He smiled thinly. "Oh, but I do love seeing my dear wife aggravated over all those pretty, useless things I shower her with."
> 
> \----------
> 
> Let me know if you like my new project! Shamefully begging for reviews here because I need a little push to get back into writing :D Also I need a good excuse to procrastinate on my uni work because, obviously, finishing this story is so much more important!
> 
> Big thanks to Noori for beta reading like a maniac and Hemlock for helping out with the plot and giving me a mega writing boost these last few days :3


End file.
